


falling in love - The Interim

by eliza_doolittlethings



Series: Falling In Love [2]
Category: Sherlock TV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2019-09-25 18:28:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 9,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17126504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eliza_doolittlethings/pseuds/eliza_doolittlethings
Summary: Gregory Lestrade gives Mycroft Holmes a helping hand in dealing with Sherlock's tantrums, thus getting to know the Government Official more intimately.





	1. Mycroft's POV

**Author's Note:**

> I have been trying to keep true to the original BBC Sherlock Series; and Lavender_and_Vanilla has helped immensely. All errors can be laid at my feet! I accept them wholeheartedly.

 

_Chapter 1 - Mycroft’s POV_

 

Holding the stem of the wine glass between his fingers, the base nestled in his palm, Mycroft breathed in the aroma of wine and spices. A perfect blend. Gave the Christmas feel of his childhood.

Glancing up from the wine glass, he looked at Gregory cleaning the stovetop. The scene was too domestic to his liking.

Abruptly rising from his perch on the window-seat, Mycroft gave a murmur for an excuse and strode towards his office.

His heart was beating unusually fast. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. Which was the wrong thing to do. The mulled wine, it’s tingling scent wafting up, made him wrinkle his forehead in contemplation.

The ‘acting’ DI was a great help with Sherlock.

Mycroft paused his thinking. Why did he keep calling Lestrade ‘acting’ DI. To keep a distance?

Hmm. The man seemed content with Mycroft’s professional approach. It was as if Mycroft seemed more interested in the man and not the other way round!

Downing the contents of the glass in one gulp, Mycroft’s checked his messages, gave instructions to Anthea, and returned to the empty kitchen. Recalling Gregory mentioning about checking on Sherlock, he placed the glass on the slab and slowly walked towards the guest bedroom.

The room was in darkness, but he could hear Gregory’s voice, a murmur; he seemed to be talking, at first. Slowly, Mycroft realised that he was singing - a yuletide song - “Red and green together be seen in the dark time of the year…” 

* * *

 

song links [ [ x ](https://www.patheos.com/blogs/themediawitches/2015/12/the-three-best-yuletide-songs-youve-never-heard/) ]/[ [ x ](https://genius.com/Maddy-prior-winter-red-and-green-lyrics) ]


	2. Gregory's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg is lost in thoughts of love and loss while watching over Sherlock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been hesitant to post, but, Lavender_and_Vanilla has helped me a lot! Hope all of you can see what I see when I write Greg.

Greg always acted on instinct, many times without even thinking. That was why when he heard Mycroft’s tired voice on the phone he rushed to help. Also, he loved food. Watched his mum in the kitchen when he was younger. Cooked for his mates during flat share. Even helped his wife, Karen when they got married first.

 

Sitting with Sherlock now, watching him sleep, the song [[x](https://genius.com/Maddy-prior-winter-red-and-green-lyrics)] came from memory, his mum singing to him in bed, when he had had a nightmare.

She used to gently brush her finger-tips over his hair and forehead, lulling him to sleep.

 

Greg loved to sing, but only in the company of friends; also, when he had consumed enough alcohol to make him forget Karen’s comments while they were dating. They had gone to a karaoke bar where she had dragged him onstage. He still remembered the way she looked at him while they sang his choice - [ Wonderwall ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bx1Bh8ZvH84) / [ Oasis ](https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C5CHFA_enIN717IN717&q=Oasis+\(band\)&stick=H4sIAAAAAAAAAONgVuLSz9U3MCw2NTOoAACB7R3FDgAAAA&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjG94OGj8vfAhUKFHIKHWePC58QMTAAegQIBxAF).

 

Nothing ever made him reconsider his decisions like Karen’s scornful looks. She was never being belittling, but open in her opinions. He couldn’t fault her for that!

 

Sighing, Greg sat back in the chair, resting his left cheek on his fist, left elbow supported by the arm-rest. Closing his eyes, he let his mind settle, allowing the commotion of his past to be washed away as the present took it’s place; totally unaware of the pair of eyes studying him from the open doorway.


	3. Sherlock’s POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock, in a state of recovery, in Mycroft's guest-bedroom, floats through his Mind Palace, reliving his childhood.

###  **_Chapter 3 - Sherlock’s POV_ **

 

The voice was far away. Was it singing? Mycroft never sang! Trying to move away from the sound, Sherlock wriggled, in-effectually. A strong hand, calloused, held his right hand in a firm grip, the other comfortingly enclosing it.

The wrinkled eyebrows relaxed, he breathed less harshly, still hearing the singing,  yet agitated no more. The face of the Inspector floated in his Mind Palace.

A sudden change of scenario made him breathe in deep. He was back near the stream with Redbeard and Mycroft. The singing was different. Or was it?

Slipping back into torpor, his grip loosened, as his mind raced through a childhood memory.

 

* * *

 

_It was his first day at school. Mycroft had walked off after imparting a few words of brotherly advice, “Be careful, dear brother. Mummy’s not here to coddle you now.”_

_Words that hurt deep, making him want to prove more than ever that he wasn’t a stupid boy who could not take care of himself. His sullen face only helped prove him wrong the moment he opened his mouth._

_It was an innocent remark. The boy walking in front of him was like Mycroft - podgy. He couldn’t help but ask, “ Is it the cake eating contest that you are going to?”_

* * *

 

 

A soft smile broke out, the singing distant, memory of Mummy berating Mycroft for the black-eye that Sherlock sported floating away.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am trying to write a bit of history between the Holmes brothers; why they are they way they seem to be, when we see them in the Series. Hope it is believable.


	4. Dawning of Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg slowly comprehends the nature of the situation he has put himself into.

###  _Chapter 4 - Dawning of Intentions_

 

Greg woke to the smell of coffee. He felt sore all over; eyes still closed his mind provided no answer as to the cause. The position he was in offered very little room for movement - his back had slid down the chair, elbow still resting on the armrest, head supported by his left hand, legs crossed at ankles with the heels on top of the bed. The right hand resting beside his thigh grappled for a hold. Slowly raising himself, his left hand fisting in order to release the cramped muscles, he sat up and stretched.

 

“Good morning,” Sherlock greeted him dully from the bed.

 

“Hmm,” Greg replied, as he reached over, eyes still closed, to the bedside table, fingers carefully feeling for the outline of the coffee-mug. “What time is it?” he mumbled, scalding his mouth with a greedy gulp of strong black coffee.

 

“Past four o’clock in the morning,” Sherlock grunted, as he burrowed deeper into the sheets.

 

“I’d better be off then. You stay out of trouble and I will give you a controlled access to cases, on my terms,” Greg tiredly put in, spelling out the last words for effect.

 

Bringing himself to a standing position, he inhaled, opened his eyes, squinted at the image of a bundled up Sherlock and walked out to the hallway. Standing there for a few seconds to get his bearings, recollecting last night's events, he exhaled audibly, head hanging at an angle, empty mug in hand and walked the way he remembered, to the kitchen.

 

* * *

 


	5. Dawning of Intentions (cont.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft finds Greg irresistible. While Greg?

###  _Chapter 5 - Dawning of Intentions (cont.)_

  
The silence of the house was unsettling. Used to living alone for some time now, Greg was still uncomfortable when he knew that it was an imposed quiet. Mycroft must be working in his study, he surmised as he entered the kitchen; only to find the man sitting by the kitchen table, dressed in his light grey silk waistcoat and blue tie, the tiepin shining in the lamp shade’s glow.   
  
Mycroft’s concentration was broken the moment Greg entered the kitchen. Looking up from a few sheets of paper, he straightened himself with the sliver a smile adorning his lips. Slowly rising from the chair, he stacked the papers into order, gave a smirk and a nod, walking out towards his study.   
  
Greg, stood there as if hit by a train, for a few seconds, cup still in hand, replaying the image of the handsome man with a smile that could light a whole valley with it’s brightness. Closing his eyes tightly and shaking his head to remove the illusion that he may have conjectured, Greg reasoned with himself as he washed the cup. Leaning over the sink, he supported himself, arms on either side and evened his breathing.   
  
The night’s rest was not adequate, he decided. Sighing, Greg turned around to see the man standing close to him, head tilted to a side, the glowing smile marred only by those eyebrows that had risen up questioningly. Narrowing his own, Greg licked his lips, holding the lower lip between his teeth longer than intended, watching the floor, his mind totally void of thought.

  


* * *

 


	6. Coming To Terms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intentions are revealed, decisions are made, by both the Ice Man and the Inspector. Neither happy with the outcome.

 “You should know something about me,” Greg stated with outward calm, his thoughts whirling around.

“I know all that I need to,” Mycroft whispered, as he approached his intended rather stealthily.

Eyes still closed and head lowered, Greg shook his head and said softly, “I cannot do that to Karen.”

The words were so simple, the voice so considerate, while his resolve a mighty blow to Mycroft. Arrested in his advance, he stood still, ramrod straight, shoved his left hand into his trouser pocket, the right swinging slightly.

“Of course. You need not explain,” Mycroft replied curtly, brows raised as his eyelids fluttered slightly, left hand held tightly into a fist in the trouser pocket. Swiftly moving away he turned on the ‘Iceman’ persona and asked, “Would you like me to send for a cab?”

Greg slowly raised his head, eyes wide, watching Mycroft turn and walk away. “No, thank you. I’d like to walk a little,” he added rather reluctantly.

“Hm,” was the only response as Mycroft disappeared down the corridor.

 

Pushing himself off the kitchen slab, Greg slowly made his way to the front door, stood there thoughtfully as his hand reached for his jacket, mind reliving last night when he had barged in with apprehension.

What was he thinking?! He had led the man to believe there was more to his actions than intended! Or wasn’t there? Greg really couldn’t say. It had been so long for him. His whole life, or at least his active part was taken up by his wife and work.

Raising the jacket with one hand to behind his back, Greg slowly slipped it on, shrugging his shoulders, as if he confirming his decision. Opening the door and stepping out, never once turning back, he missed the shadow that was lurking in the corridor.

  
______~______

  


	7. Coming to terms [contn.]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft is restless and Sherlock becomes the sensible one.  
> Greg is resolved and moves on with his life ( or at least tries).

###  _ Chapter 7 - Coming to terms [contn.] _

 

Mycroft stood his place, arms folded across his chest, right shoulder resting against the wall, left leg crossed over, head slightly bent down , eyes narrowed at the front door. The pursed lips gave away his disapproval of the outcome.

Pushing away from the wall with force, Mycroft walked to his study, banged the door shut and went ahead with the day’s rigmarole. Having learnt to compartmentalise emotions, it was not a hard task to him. Yet, the nagging thought intruded to such an extent that within the hour Mycroft huffed and rose from his perch behind the desk with the pretext of looking into his brother’s condition.

“Not yet dead, if you were wondering,” Sherlock’s sardonic tone echoed into the hallway, where Mycroft was hovering. “You let him go,” the plain statement nudged Mycroft’s curiosity.

“Hm,” he responded from the hallway, resisting the need to converse.

“Give him time,” Sherlock mumbled, shifting under the bed cover, curling up into a ball, his curls visible over the pillows.

Mycroft stood calculating the import of those words, hands clenched in his trouser pockets; licking his lips, he strode away to his bedroom with determination.

______~______

  
  


Greg walked all the way to his apartment, trudged the four flights of stairs and wearily let himself in. Rubbing his eyes with his fingers, moving them to his forehead, he tried massaging the headache away to no avail.

The phone vibrating in his coat pocket brought him back to the present, his job. Resigned to his decision, Greg answered the call, “Hello.”

“I’ll be late. You go ahead, Sally. Will meet you at the crime scene,” he spoke mechanically, bone-tired, cutting the call, while walking into the bath.

______~______


	8. The Imperative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Greg moves on with his routine, things get to a climax.

###  ** _Chapter 8 - The Imperative_ **

 

####  _ [The following week upto Christmas Eve] _

 

The  [ Reading ](https://www.inyourarea.co.uk/news/police-hunt-for-four-men-after-robbery-outside-reading-subway/) crime took up all of Greg’s time. With no Sherlock to spew deductions, the police conducted the investigation the old-fashioned way - painfully going through each evidence one after another. 

 

Late nights and early mornings kept him on his toes, giving no room for thoughts of the elder Holmes’ bewitching smile. While his waking hours made his mind work like the devil, his dreams told an entirely different state of his mind.

For the first couple of days Greg did not identify the uneasiness. He knew he got little sleep, but the few hours that he did, he was knocked out hard and yet, by the end of the week, it was like he had not slept for months.

Reasoning with the fact that Karen’s departure was taking it’s toll on him, Greg simply concentrated on the work. Sally’s concern for his loss of weight did nothing to make him reconsider his callous attitude towards himself.

 

It had been a week since he had seen either of the Holmes siblings. Saturday night. Christmas Eve. Sitting alone in his empty apartment, Greg had enough and more time to dwell on the previous week.

 

A bottle of wine half empty, a wine glass half full, Greg sat there in his living room glaring at the tele. Of course, every channel had to show something Christmassy!

Brain lulled by the alcohol filling his empty stomach, thoughts buried deep from the dreams that he had suppressed resurfaced. With heavy lidded eyes, Greg relived the different scenarios that his mind had enacted; some where he took the initiative, while others where Mycroft took the upper hand.

Moaning, from both pleasure at the thought and pain from the desolate feeling, Greg clenched the glass firmly in his hand. The broken shards dug deep into his palm, while he simply sat there inebriated, whimpering.

 

______~______

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 'Reading' crime is just my addition from doing a little internet research. No offence meant to anyone. If I could, I would invent names of places; but, I have a very limited imagination. Sorry to all who find it illogical or personal.
> 
> [I'm babbling, as usual. Take no note of me. Next Chapter is a continuation of this one. Posting very soon.]


	9. The Imperative [contn.]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft becomes the Knight In Shining Armour. But doubts his decision.

###  _Chapter 9 - The Imperative [contn.]_  
  


Mycroft was a man on a mission - to prove to Greg the futility of his denial.

The perfect opportunity presented itself in the form of a Christmas Gala for all  Parliamentarians and Cabinet Staff. The invitation insisted on a plus one. 

Avoiding such events unless absolutely necessary, even then going alone without a partner for years now, Mycroft saw this as a perfect excuse to get what he wanted; also, to make his intended realise what it is that he was missing.

 

The DI’s phone kept ringing with no answer.

Ready to leave his office, dressed in a tuxedo, Mycroft had made certain that Greg had made no plans for Christmas. His confidence waned with each second as each phone call was directed to voicemail.

Marching into his study, Mycroft accessed the video feeds. Going through the footage, making sure that the man had not left the building, he rushed out, barking orders to his driver.

 

The drive to Greg’s place took a quarter of an hour with heavy traffic, even though the driver took liberties with traffic rules. The continued rejecting of all his calls made Mycroft uneasy.

Rolling his tongue in his cheek in contemplation, he exited the car the moment it came to a halt by the curb outside Greg’s apartment and nimbly took the stairs. The front door was only partially closed, a program on the tele droning in the living room.

Slowly pushing the door open with his gloved hand, reaching for his umbrella and realising his mistake - having left it in the office in his hurry, Mycroft steeled himself and entered.

______~______

 

The sight of Greg slumped on the sofa, clenched hand bleeding onto the floor, was enough for Mycroft to make a swift decision. Putting aside his desires, dialling for the ambulance and then his assistant, Mycroft stood detached, while Greg was bundled onto the stretcher by the paramedics.

 

______~______


	10. Of Desires and Wishes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dream or was it real? Mycroft meets Greg in the hospital. Greg's subconscious has a lot more to say.

###  **_Chapter 10 - Of Desires and Wishes_ **

 

The Gala was as uneventful as always. Anthea had informed Mycroft that the DI had taken quite a few sleeping pills, along with the wine. Unconscious for the moment, he was said to make a full recovery by morning.

Giving his apologies to the PM, Mycroft swiftly escaped the clawing atmosphere.

A timely call from his surveillance team at the same moment was not unexpected.

 

“Is he conscious?” Mycroft asked, none too gently. “Bring him over to St. Barts’,” he bellowed and pocketed the phone.

 

______~______

 

Greg could hear his heart pounding and that was not good. Maybe he was dreaming? What about? Taking a deep breath to raise himself was the wrong move. His head swam and he felt nauseous.

Clutching the sheets on both sides, he regulated his breathing to a minimum and slowly recalled the events of that night.

 

“Good evening inspector,” the cool calm voice of the elder Holmes seeped into his system like a lullaby.

“Is …,” Greg did not utter the next word.

“Yes, Sherlock has been admitted here,” Mycroft spoke nonchalantly.

 

______~______

 

“ _You’ve_ been busy,” Greg said, as he eyed the elder Holmes curiously.

The scoff from the other side of the room spoke volumes.

 

Mycroft pretended to examine the room and the monitors, left thumb resting at the edge of his trouser pocket, his right hand swinging. The profile, along with the dim light of the hospital room casting shadows on his hair and neck made Greg close his eyes tight and hold his breath.

 

Curling and uncurling his fingers that had gathered the sheet into a bunch, Greg tried desperately to calm himself. The pounding of his heart had resumed and that made him wonder what it was that had woken him from his stupor in the first place. A ghost of a touch, a finger tip, along his cheek, down to the corner of his lips haunted his drug fogged memory.

 

______~______

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to write the emotional interactions between the two men. If it reads unclear do ask me to correct my style :)


	11. Thwarted Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg and Mycroft enjoy a moment of understanding that gives hope in different forms to both.

###  _ Chapter 11 - Thwarted Plans _

 

Greg opened his eyes to see Mycroft studying him from where he had positioned himself, halfway across the room. Clearing his throat, Greg opened his mouth, but Mycroft intervened.

“He is recovering. The doctor who examined him said that there was no need to worry,” Mycroft fiddled with the blinds, left hand clenched in his pocket.

 

Greg had begun to read his tells and could feel the man’s uneasiness.

To lighten the mood he asked, “What about me? Am I dying?”

 

That brought out the desired reaction from the Ice Man.

Yes, Greg had heard rumours about the man who was unassailed by anything.

The man’s eyebrows had risen almost as high as his hairline.

Greg couldn’t help laugh out loud.

With equal speed those eyebrows wrinkled questioningly.

Sighing, Greg wiped away the tears that had rimmed his eyelashes.

 

“How was the party?” Greg asked, diverting the topic.

Mycroft shrugged, as he rolled his tongue along his cheek.

“I wasn’t trying to take my life, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Greg added, as an afterthought.

“It had never occurred to me,” Mycroft belaboured, his expression denoting the alarm that he genuinely felt.

“Good to know,” Greg said, nodding his head as if in reassurance. “When can I go home?” Greg asked, mouth pouting.

 

Mycroft rolled his jaw in contemplation and raising one eyebrow, said noncommittally, “Right now, if you are up to it.”

 

“Oh,” Greg responded, surprised.

Mycroft tilted his head and held Greg’s gaze.

 

“Um, ok, right. I should probably get dressed then,” he mumbled, rising from the bed gingerly, moving the sheet aside to free his legs from under.

“I shall inform the nurse,” Mycroft loftily replied, while moving towards the door.

 

Greg had sat himself with his back to Mycroft, the gown’s ties having loosened, revealing more than either had anticipated.

  
  


______~______

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for not posting last Friday


	12. Back Home Safe and Sound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected companion and a perplexed host. The dance begins, but will it last till the end of the song?

###  _ Chapter 12 - Back Home Safe and Sound _

  
  


Greg had not anticipated Mycroft accompanying him home; Sherlock being hospitalised. The man was being considerate and that bothered Greg. Not because he didn’t like it, but it seemed out of character for the Ice Man.

Trudging up the stairs with Mycroft in tow, Greg was at a loss for words. An expert in small talk, he simply could think of nothing to engage the man in a conversation.

 

“For Christmas Eve it’s not as cold as last year,” Greg tried, while fumbling with the lock.

“Hm,” was the only response.

 

Well, if that’s how it’s going to be, so be it, Greg decided.

 

Opening the door with force, he threw the keys into the bowl on the table by the door, walking off to his bedroom, mumbling about a bath.

Mycroft stood there by the open front door, clenching the handle of his umbrella with both hands, glad to have something to hold onto.

Exhaling with force, he walked over to the sofa. The blood had dried. Pieces of broken glass littered the rug.

Ignoring the buzzing phone in his coat, Mycroft walked towards the window, umbrella held firmly in his right hand.

It had not been snowing till now. Watching the flakes fall gently, a breath of wind drifting the snow far and wide, carpeting everything that the eye could behold, it simply felt right to be there, now, in the DI’s home.

  
  


______~______

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am pacing my writing, for I would like to take time to reveal their relationship. It is very important that I do. For, at least in my head, Greg may be the simplest of men I have ever seen [and I am writing with Rupert Graves in my mind], but he is the hardest to delve into. Maybe because he is not complex, unlike the Holmes brothers.   
> And, I want him to come out as Rupert's Greg, if you can understand what I mean :)  
> So, please be patient. I promise to make it worth the wait { *sigh* hopefully}.


	13. The Season of Yuletide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Circumstances give way to emotions, revealing the heart.

###  Chapter 13 - The Season of Yuletide 

 

Greg was in no hurry to leave his room. Towelling his hair dry after a shower, he dressed the wound in his hand and then  chose his clothes carefully. A tee and pyjamas were his usual attire. Not with Mycroft in his house. Deciding to go for black trousers and a white shirt, he’d sat on the bed to pull up the trouser, shirt still hanging from one arm, when he heard the expletive.

  


Waiting for Greg to exit his bedroom, Mycroft had called his P.A. for some home-delivery. Seeing the glittering pieces of glass, he had decided to clean up. It was a compulsive behaviour that he could never ignore.

 

“Bugger,” Mycroft winced, as he cut his hand on the broken glass. 

The man always wore gloves. Today, in his hurry to reach the hospital, he had left them behind. Like the spare umbrella in the car, he needed to stock the car with spare gloves too, Mycroft thought, as he pressed the wound hard to stop the bleeding.

“Don’t do that!” Greg shouted, as he rushed out, trousers yet to be buckled, shirt hanging from one arm. “Give me your hand,” he ordered.

Pulling at Mycroft’s arm, who was still kneeling next to the sofa, Greg forcibly dragged the man into the kitchen, opened the tap fully and held Mycroft’s finger under the running water. Blood mixed with the water and drained into the sink.

Slowly and gently rubbing the wound, feeling for glass shards, Greg waited till the bleeding stopped. Then he closed the tap and watched the wound closely. After making sure that the clot would prevent further blood loss, he walked over to a cupboard, dragging Mycroft along by the hand, took out a first-aid box and dressed the wound.

 

Mycroft silently watched the man, his face a blank slate, emotions running high in his Mind Archive.

 

______~______

  



	14. Getting To Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft gets to know what's in his heart, flounders ...

###  Chapter 14 - Getting To Know

 

“Why don’t you sit here while I clean up,” Greg spoke brusquely, pushing Mycroft towards the kitchen table, while keeping by the first-aid box.

Mycroft sat on the stool gingerly, rubbing the wound with his right hand.

“Don’t touch it. It will heal fast if you leave it alone,” Greg had turned half way through the kitchen door, watching Mycroft moodily pick at the wound.

Glancing at Greg with that furrow between his eyebrows, Mycroft looked more like a petulant child to the Inspector; a wide smile dawned on his lips at the image of the Ice Man and he walked off to the living area.

____~____

 

Mycroft sat there, in the dim light of the kitchen, wondering how he had made such a terrible blunder. Taming his emotions from childhood was something that had become second nature to him; so much so that he never missed a heart beat in making decisions, concerning loved ones or the Nation.

Yet, suddenly, he was letting his subconscious rule his head. Never had it happened before. Not even in the early years of college, when he was infatuated by a senior. Having dismissed it as infatuation, he had simply moved on with his training in the secret service, gaining him the nickname ‘Ice Man’.

Coming to the conclusion that this was only a physical response to a long enforced celibacy, he silently rose from the stool, called his P.A. and asked to cancel the delivery.

 

“I’ve finished cleaning …” Greg entered the kitchen, wet cloth and a bowl of water in hand, stopped talking as he saw that Mycroft was on the phone and silently went to the sink.

 

“I have to leave immediately. Sorry for all the trouble,” he lamely made his excuses, moving swiftly to the hallway.

“Yes, yes, of course,” Greg mumbled, following him at a distance.

“Merry Christmas, Inspector. And have a good evening,” Mycroft smiled as he picked his umbrella and coat.

Greg returned the strained smile, a reflection of emotions that were shared yet never meant to be, as Mycroft opened the front door and smoothly disappeared down the stairs.

____~____


	15. Moving On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg and Mycroft get on with their respective lives, while we delve into the mind of the Detective.

Chapter 15 - Moving On

Abandonment was a feeling that Greg was getting used to. First his parents, then Karen, now …

The DI easily picked up his routine without batting an eyelid. Being comfortable in the job was the advantage. Friendship was something he never really understood.

The office party on New Year’s Eve was more obligatory than joyful. Living with Karen had taught him how to placate people.

The number of crimes had reduced in the New Year. It looked like smooth sailing and Greg relaxed a little as his nightmares had subsided.

____~____

Mycroft was overworked. The New Year terror threats had escalated and all departments were working overtime to counter them.

The two security detail appointed to tail Sherlock kept failing in their task miserably. Anthea bore the brunt of the Ice Man’s ire.

The situation in Belarus required urgent attention. Mycroft was forced to leave immediately, trusting Anthea to look out for his little brother. He was averse to asking the DI for help after having abruptly cutting him off on Christmas Eve.

____~____

Sherlock wondered how his brother could be so tediously obvious. Even a simple minded man would logically extrapolate Mycroft’s actions and come to the same conclusions. At least it made the job of evading his brother’s scullions a no brainer.

Walking along the Thames, his coat turned up in the wintry midnight, Sherlock let his mind roam free. Times like this, when the brain needed exercise, he found that to sit idly was stifling. Searching the London streets for information kept him active, barely; while not succumbing to the temptation of an artificial high.

They had an understanding, his brother and himself; whenever the external impressions got too predictable, whenever he felt the need to seek outlet in recreational habits, Sherlock would reach out to his brother.

Only, every time he tried to, reach out, Mycroft was always out of contact. Not anyone’s fault. He held an important post in the machinery of the Government and so of course Nation came first.

____~____


	16. A Healthy Triangle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg makes new friends, maintains old friendship [more .. handling], while Mycroft maintains a respectable distance.

Chapter 16 - A Healthy Triangle

Greg tried hard to keep his mind free of Sherlock. Somehow, it wasn’t in his nature to ignore people. Whenever a case that was more than interesting turned up his mind automatically went to the cloaked figure hovering around the crime scene all those months back, when they first met.

Smiling, Greg fondly recollected how Sherlock stated facts like a post-mortem surgeon. That reminded him of Molly. He wondered if Sherlock would be interested in working with her. They would make a good team.

Looking down at the bloated corpse, he realised that he was smiling and schooled his features as he glanced around at the forensics’ working away. The familiar silhouette brought back a semblance of a smile. Shaking his head, Greg walked towards the darkness under the bridge.

“News travels fast,” he muttered while lighting a cigarette and offered one to the shrouded figure, whose hair fluttered in the wind.

Sherlock simply shook his head, hands deep in his coat pocket, facing the crime scene.

____~____

The political situation was dealt with; Mycroft flew back at the earliest, being away for almost a week. Anthea had kept him updated on the situation with his brother and the DI and the new arrangement at St. Barts’.

Dr. Molly Hooper was a forensic pathologist who had just joined St. Barts’. Single, both parents deceased, no siblings, there seemed to be more in common with the DI than he would care to acknowledge.

Mycroft maintained a respectable distance rather than interfere with the present arrangement, deciding to leave things be. Sherlock would be occupied for quite some time having gained an unwary admirer to toy with.

The months ahead proved him right and Mycroft withdrew further, leaving Sherlock’s tantrums to be dealt with by the DI; having long since learned to ignore a bawling miscreant.

____~____


	17. Road To Life and Speed Breakers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg finds himself alone, and then, not so much alone, again.

_**Chapter 17 - Road To Life and Speed Breakers** _

 

#####  _ {Scotland Yard - The DI’s Office - a few weeks into January} _

 

Greg had just received a phone call from one of Karen’s friends - she was a mess and had left her latest fling. Reluctant to ask him directly, she had roped in a mutual friend to convey the message. Cutting the call, Greg watched the screen go to screensaver mode, the side of his lips twitching in contemplation.

The itching of his palm roused him from speculations. Placing the phone on his desk, he looked at the scar in his right palm. The cut had healed fast. It had faded, the scar. But, at times, the itching was intense. Like a reminder, of that day.

Rubbing his left thumb over the skin, Greg sat there, his mind blank, unable to process it.

 

A knock on his door cut through the spell.

 

“Sir,” Sally waited, then continued, “the freak’s causing a ruckus downstairs.”

____~____

#####  _ {On The Way To Greg’s Apartment} _

 

The car had broken down and after a long wait the company sent a breakdown truck. Greg took a cab after dealing with the mechanic, only to see light streaming from his apartment window. Standing there on the pavement, the cab long gone, Greg watched the curtained window.

First Sherlock and now Karen. His day was getting better and better.

Sighing, he opened the door to the building and trudged up the stairs. A faint smile revealed the man’s innermost thoughts.

 

Sherlock had strongly opined the foolishness of his decision. This was not the first time that the Detective had given him advice regarding his personal life. The boy seemed to divine everything that was there to know about him.

Greg never found it intrusive. In fact , it was quite endearing, to have someone so concerned about his well being, even if he went about it in a rather abusive manner.

 

____~____

#####  _ {Greg’s Apartment} _

 

The aroma of dinner floated down the stairs. Karen had always gone to great extents to please him, when she felt the need. Today was one of those days. And Greg always succumbed to these ministrations.

Being an easy go lucky man, the Inspector tried hard not to tip the balance of his life by being overly active or interfering. He simply enjoyed the flow of the current, riding it out as it carried him downstream.

Opening the front door, the smile still adorning his lips, Greg walked in, placed the keys in the bowl on the table by the door, hung his coat and scarf, toed out his shoes and walked straight into the kitchen.

 

The player was on. Karen’s favourite music - ‘ [ Paul Anka - One Man Woman ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sGZkdpgAoPc) ’.

He was swept into her arms. They slow danced and Greg was so lost, he simply went along mechanically.

 

____~____ 


	18. Uphill and Hairpin Bends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg relives the previous night, is confused by his feelings and finds a friend in an unexpected quarter of his life.

###  Chapter 18 - Uphill and Hairpin Bends 

#####  _{Bedroom}_

 

Greg woke up with a start. Eyes wide open, heart beating wildly, he sat for a moment, unsure of what roused him. Looking at the clock, it was only 3 a.m. The bed stirred and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

Karen. Last night flooded back into his thoughts.

They had enjoyed a dance, then dinner. She had cleaned up and then they sat on the couch watching tele, wine glasses in hand till it was so late that Greg had dozed off. Gently waking him up, she had led him to the wash, helped him change and made love to him like they had only just met.

* * *

The whole experience was oddly familiar and even then felt strange. Greg couldn’t pinpoint the difference. Somehow, he felt a detachment. Brushing it off as nothing but months of indifference between them he fell into a worn out stuporous sleep with Karen draped over him.

His sudden movement had jostled her.

Looking down at his companion fast asleep, lying on her belly, her bare back and splayed arms a familiar sight, Greg was surprised that it did not stir him the way it used to when they were first married.

Rubbing his face with both hands, he slowly slipped out and headed to the loo.

* * *

_{St. Barts’}_

Molly looked up from the body she was cutting open. Her goggles prevented her from getting a clear view, but she could see the DI’s face clouded. He was a very open man and she liked him. He made her comfortable.

Putting down the electric saw that she had used to cut open the ribcage, Molly went over to the sink, removed her gloves, then the goggles, washed her hands and said, “Why not take a break. It’s no use your waiting here. The autopsy will take at least 2 or more hours.”

Greg simply looked up at her, his face not registering the meaning.

She walked over to him, removing her coat on the way, hung it by the door and took his arm.

Greg looked down at their hands and let out a deep breath. Raising his eyebrows as if in defeat he followed her out the morgue door.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to add that, Molly is an integral part in this series for me. I am slowly introducing her importance to the characters - Greg, Sherlock, Mycroft.  
> I am basically a mollcroft fan.  
> Hope you do enjoy my take on how the life of these three men change due to this single woman in their lives.  
> I know that most of you are used to reading John or Sally or even Anderson as Greg's 'friend' to whom he speaks his mind.  
> This story is different. Since it is from my point of view :)  
> I apologise to those who are unable to see the story my way in advance.  
> The upcoming chapters have Molly as Greg's guide and comforter.
> 
> Hope you can try and see the story unfold as I see it.  
> And enjoy it as I have done writing it!  
> Thank you.  
> I'll try to post every 2 or 3 days.  
> Try.  
> I promise.


	19. Lessons From The Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg tries to piece things out with Molly's help, while learning more about her and the influence Sherlock has on her.

###  Chapter 19 - Lessons From The Dead 

 

#####  _{Canteen - St. Barts’}_

 

“Did she say anything?” Molly thoughtfully asked.

Greg simply shrugged his shoulders.

 

Their friendship was alacritous. It had a natural flow.

Greg would wait around while Molly did her job before giving her verdict on the report - an unofficial opinion so that he could have a clue as to what to expect before the case fell apart or the perpetrator vanished.

They had managed quite well in fact, even without Sherlock’s interference in more than one occasion.

Molly was always talkative, more so in the morgue, where she felt at home. Greg, on the other hand, liked to give a patient ear. Thus they juggled the amity.

Usually her topic would be Sherlock. Today, she was curious about him.

Greg, never believed in analysis. Only what was essential for a case. Life was too unpredictable to calculate and plan ahead.

* * *

____~____

 

Reluctant to talk, not because he had anything to hide, but simply because he was unsure of why he felt the way he did, Greg sat there, looking glum, his coffee already cold.

“But, you’re happy to see her,” Molly observed, playing with the plastic stick she had used to stir the sugar in.

Greg glanced at her questioningly his head still bent over his cup of coffee, that looked thoroughly unappealing.

“You don’t remember what the dream was about, then?” Molly persisted.

Greg shook his head in answer, let out a sigh and sat back, right hand still holding the cup, left resting over the chair. Tilting his head, eyes focussed not on the cup but far away, he said, “I distinctly remember the touch. It was gentle.”

Closing his eyes to relive the dream, his hand slowly clenched the paper cup. Suddenly conscious of his action, Greg stared at the now partially crushed cup, and grimaced.

* * *

____~____

 

Walking back to the morgue, Sherlock barged out, “Ah, there you are!” he smiled and then his face fell.

“I need blood, as fresh as possible,” he said, smiling again and walked off.

Molly, totally dumbstruck, simply nodded her head and rushed off.

Watching the interaction, Greg couldn’t help but laugh internally as he followed Molly.

“So, how is he?” he asked, knowing the answer.

“Very demanding, but it’s no trouble,” Molly quickly added. “He’s been experimenting on the clotting of blood and staining effects.”

She continued to babble about how blood stains darker in the centre and Greg lost interest, his mind wandering back to the dream that woke him up at three in the morning.

* * *

____~____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you do like my Molly.  
> I'll write more about Sherlock and her soon.


	20. -The Heart Knows, But The Mind Refuses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg finds himself settling into his domestic life, when, as usual the Holmes brothers take over.

###  _ Chapter 20  -The Heart Knows, But The Mind Refuses  _

 

 Reaching home late, as usual, after a not very productive day, Greg was wary of the welcome he’d receive but was quite surprised. It was like when they were just married; she was very enthusiastic.

Sighing, he simply let her lead.

 

The days passed in a blur and the DI almost forgot about the previous months upto Christmas Eve, until a phone call came in the early hours of Easter Sunday. Mechanically answering the call with his eyes shut tight, the familiar soft voice made Greg bolt out of the bed and dress drowning Mycroft’s niceties with, “Where was the last known location?”

Karen tried to question him through the phone conversation but could get nowhere.

Greg rushed out without even glancing back, grabbing his coat and keys, while patting his pocket to make sure he had his purse in there.

* * *

A month without word from Sherlock should have roused his suspicion. But, the dull routine of his old life had taken over his mindset making him conveniently forget the Holmes brothers and the complications that came with it.

 

Finding him in an alleyway in Soho was the last straw. It was almost as if Sherlock was craving his brother’s attention.

 

Furious, Greg decided to confront Mycroft.

After admitting him at St. Barts’, Greg drove over to Mycroft’s place and rang the bell. No response. He pressed the bell without releasing his finger determined to make the man come out and talk to him.

 

Ignoring the mobile that kept buzzing in his coat pocket, Greg rolled his lower lip under his teeth, alternately licking it.

Five minutes gone, he released the switch and walked back to his car.

Sitting on the driver’s seat behind the steering wheel, he took out the phone knowing that it would be Karen.

* * *

The phone rang again - 6 missed calls - all from Mycroft. Narrowing his eyes, Greg looked outside to Mycroft’s apartment while sliding his thumb over the screen.

 

“Yes.”

 

“I am not at home, Inspector. For that matter I am out of the country. If you had patiently listened to me earlier, you would not have had to go through all this trouble,” Mycroft spoke in his sing-song big brotherly manner that always infuriated Sherlock.

 

Rubbing his forehead with his left hand Greg rested his weary head on the steering wheel and mumbled, “He will be alright. At least that’s what Molly says.”

 

“Yes, thank you for taking the trouble. I really appreciate it,” Mycroft was too formal and Greg itched to get a rise out of the man.

 

“Well, you can continue partying or gallivanting across the world. We have too much time on our hands as it is,” the even tone of Greg’s warm voice masked any annoyance.

 

The gritted reply, “Thank you Inspector. I shall make sure that you are amply rewarded,” was not what Greg wanted to hear.

 

Sliding the screen, Greg shoved the phone into his coat and took off in such a rage that scorched tire marks decorated the road outside Mycroft’s house.

* * *

 

 


	21. Life Is A Merry-Go-Round

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Greg's life goes to recycle, he begins to lose control over it, with unexpected consequences.

###  _ Chapter 21 - Life Is A Merry-Go-Round _

 

The days that followed only brought out the worst in the Inspector. 

Sherlock conveniently forgot about the incident, returning to his experiments, bugging Molly and interfering in Greg’s cases.

Molly did her best to be the go between, never getting through to either of them.

Mycroft having flown back the next day, maintained his distance, never once contacting Greg.

Karen began to get back to her old ways, staying out late, forgetting to inform him of her plans, spending more than his income would permit - the car was part of her insistence that an Inspector did not travel by train or bus.

 

* * *

 

Greg started to frequent pubs, mostly alone, sometimes with his colleagues. He hated being asked personal questions and avoided his juniors for the same reason.

The weekends were the worst though. Karen gave excuses about visiting friends, sometimes relatives and Greg would simply mumble his acceptance.

The moment she walked out the door, Greg took off, driving further away from town, to find a new pub, staying there till late into the night.

Most days he was too drunk to drive back and never wondered about his safe return back home or how the car was parked neatly outside their apartment.

 

* * *

 

Only when Karen asked him about it did he begin to question it.

A Sunday morn in the middle of April; the weather was pleasant; Karen was arranging flowers in a vase, humming a song that Greg was familiar with, yet evaded his mind.

The headache from last night’s hangover was receding.

 

“Who’s your new friend?” Karen asked in between the humming.

Not registering the question, Greg simply sat silently, eyes closed on the sofa.

“The guy who drops you off,” she added, moving towards the window.

“Hm?” Greg responded.

“After you get drunk,” her voice faded  into the bedroom.

 

* * *


	22. The DI Investigates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg is intrigued and recruits Molly in helping him solve the puzzle.

###  _ Chapter 22 - The DI Investigates _

 

“Molly, I need your help,” Greg hounded her in the lab.

“You've been repeating that since the moment you arrived,” Molly laughed as she cleaned the bench where she had been working.

“Well, yes,” Greg paused and then forged ahead. “I think I’m losing it.”

“What?!” Molly stopped her movements, then looked up at the man standing on the other side of the Bunsen flame.

 

He looked tired, troubled and lost. Knowing the Inspector for the past many months, Molly found him to be reliant and practical. Not one to be unpredictable and dramatic.

Smiling at the reminder of the Detective, she got lost in her thoughts.

 

“Molly!” Greg knew how she could get when lost in her mind.

“Yes! Yes. What is it?” Molly focussed while turning down the flame.

 

* * *

 

“I’m not sure this will work,” Molly fidgeted on the bar stool, her drink untouched.

“What else is there?” Greg sullenly asked, taking a sip from his half full glass.

“You were alone when you got drunk. That’s a huge difference!” Molly squeaked.

“Well, next time you stay undercover. Maybe then you can see who the person is,” Greg rudely pointed out miffed by the loophole in his plan.

 

“Why not I argue with you and walk off. I can monitor from outside,” Molly excitedly asked.

“You would be spotted,” was the dry remark.

 

Pouting, Molly sipped her drink and looked around. The bar was full. Most of the men were middle aged, some in business suits, others in overalls. The few women looked like dates who were already drunk.

 

* * *

 

“Where’s the car?” Karen asked as Greg entered his apartment.

“At a friend’s,” Greg replied while peeling off his coat.

“You’re back early,” Karen pointed out walking into the kitchen.

“You think so,” Greg muttered as he wandered into the bedroom.

“Your other friend called. Said you need to call him back as soon as you get back,” Karen called out from the kitchen.

 

Greg stood motionless on his way to the loo.

 

“He called you?” Greg shouted out, not moving an inch.

“No, you dummy!” there was a pause, then, “He came by.”

 

“Did he leave a number?”

 

“No!”

 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to make it natural, as part of the original work. Reading it again, now, not so sure. Like how it turns out. Not the way I've written it, that's all. Hope you do enjoy reading ..


	23. Conclusions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg confronts his demons and is forced to face the music.

###  _ Chapter 23 - Conclusions_

_{Outside a nondescript building in the heart of London}_

 

“I need a quick word, then I’ll be off,” Greg pleaded, hands deep in his trouser pockets, shoulders hunched. The rain was a drizzle, falling steadily onto the pavement, warm air rising into the night air, giving a sinister look to the Detective’s wet coat in the street lamp’s yellow glow.

Anthea watched him emotionlessly, typed into her phone, flicked the screen and made an about turn on her heels.

“This way, Inspector,” she called back, swiftly moving into the corridor that was dimly lit.

Greg entered the open door and hurried to follow her. His thoughts though far away.

 

* * *

Having learnt from Karen that the man he was seeking had been home, Greg had hurried back to his office in Scotland Yard and done some digging. The security camera feeds were never reliable, but he had to try.

The car that pulled over in front of his apartment was a nondescript one - black, with heavily tinted glasses. There was no number plate or tags for the model.

A thin man dressed like a chauffeur got out from the driver’s seat and walked to his apartment door, rang the bell, then spoke briefly over the intercom; driving away immediately.

 

* * *

“What can I do for you Inspector?” Mycroft asked, seated behind his desk, eyes concentrating on the screen of his laptop.

“Um,” Greg was lost for words as he stood there, arms hanging limply by his sides.

“If it is about my driver speaking to your wife, then there is nothing much to say. I had instructed him to keep a look out for you, considering the places that you do end up after your busy work schedule. He simply wanted to confirm that you were home,” Mycroft typed away as he spoke, not once looking up.

Greg simply nodded.

 

* * *

Mycroft completed his work, shut the laptop and sat back, elbows resting on the arm rest, fingers steepled in thought, eyes focussed on the Detective.

It seemed like ages to Greg but was merely a couple of minutes.

“Is there something else?” he asked, lifting a well-manicured eyebrow.

Mycroft’s icy tone would have deterred most men.

But Greg was not most men. He needed answers. His life was spiralling out of control no thanks to the Holmes brothers.

While one constantly craved his attention, the other totally ignored him. Both haunting his thoughts day and night.

 

“You are being uncharacteristically considerate,” Greg solemnly stated, frowning deeply.

 

“I apologise if my interference has inconvenienced you, Inspector. It shall not happen in the future, I assure you. A minor error of judgement on my part,” Mycroft said, the sarcasm not lost on Greg.

“It was not unwelcome,” was all Greg could say.

The Ice Man’s eyes widened a little and then narrowed, his left hand involuntarily grabbing the pen lying on the table. Rotating it in his hands, Mycroft rolled his tongue along his cheek before asking, “How is your wife?”

That finally made Greg look up at the Government Official seated behind the desk. “Good,” he replied.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Was out of town. Hope to schedule my posting.  
> Lots more to come in the next part.


	24. Commitments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg has a 'quiet' chat with Molly, while the younger Holmes buts in with his theories.

###  Chapter 24 - Commitments 

 

“You have bad taste in women,” Sherlock mumbled as he peered into the microscope.

Molly had just left the lab, after Greg had asked her for a Post Mortem report.

Puzzled, Greg stared at the Detective wondering if he had heard him right. Having had a tiresome night, the Inspector was in no mood to be criticised.

Ignoring the Detective, Greg walked over to a stool and sat down, cradling his throbbing head in his left hand while unlocking the phone with his right.

“They prey on your kindness,” Greg heard the Detective mutter again as he changed slides and focussed.

 

* * *

 

“You haven’t met Karen, have you?” Greg asked Molly while they walked towards the PM room.

“No, can’t say I have, although, I never get much time to socialise, so,” Molly floundered, as she pushed open the double doors with her hip, hands laden with files.

“She is quite a gentle soul, you know. Simply does not know what she wants most of the time, that’s all,” Greg spoke, his voice unsure of the words.

“So, you’re back together for good, then?” Molly asked, dumping her files on the counter and holding onto them as they toppled over.

“Yes,” Greg replied.

 

* * *

 

“The counsellor said, marriage is an institution and it takes both to run it smoothly. At least that’s what she says,” Greg thoughtfully added, perched on the stool next to Molly’s files.

“And you believe her!” Sherlock’s shrill contempt echoed in the room as he flounced in.

Molly dropped the file that she had been examining and disappeared under the counter.

Greg watched her movements with interest, not responding to the jibe.

“Take Molly here. Why do you think she hangs around dead people?” Sherlock pointed to the huddled figure on the floor.

“Because men are brutes, the living ones, at least,” Greg retorted mockingly.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greg's view on Karen may sound ludicrous, but, I've felt that he ignores the worst in people out of habit. Hence his tolerance of someone as unpredictable as Sherlock.  
> [My uncle is like that - he once told me, always think of the good in people; it will help you to behave decently, however much they provoke you otherwise ..]
> 
> {just saying}


	25. Marriage Is A Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg goes through the changes in his domestic and professional life a little too smoothly ..; blindly following old routines ..  
>  \- the calm before the storm.

###  _ Chapter 25 - Marriage Is A Dance _

The next few weeks Greg worked hard to reach home early. He even planned their weekends - an outing, dinner, movie.

Karen was not impressed. She was worried that he was spending too much money. She wanted to move back to their old apartment. It had three bedrooms and a balcony, where she could hold parties for all her friends.

She insisted that he work overtime and save cash.

Unable to convince her otherwise, Greg simply let her lead their life, while he fell back to the routine that he had developed when she had walked away.

For now at least.

 

* * *

 

 

As the months passed, Greg saw less of Sherlock and even less of Mycroft.

Considering it as a blessing, he tried to not give in to the temptation of drinking, but was unable to quit smoking.

It was obvious that Karen had gotten to her old ways. She was a lively spirit and could never sit cooped up in their flat awaiting her husband back from work.

Greg could never blame her for wanting a life outside the four walls that was their home.

Yet, he found it hard to digest the fact that she may be seeing someone else, again.

 

* * *

 

 

The work had gotten easier, with Sherlock and Molly pitching in. He simply attended as if it was a normal desk job, delegating half the cases that came under his purview.

Greg began to see why Sherlock shouted out ‘bored’ so often. And still, he didn’t find it in him to simply toil over the ‘obvious’ cases.

That’s when he succumbed to temptation.

He was not a man who liked to ‘play the field’. He’d rather be happily married and simply get on with life. But Karen was so confident that he wouldn’t stray that she never questioned his whereabouts.

 

* * *

 


	26. Two To Tango

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg's plans get messed up, the Holmes brothers taking over, as usual ..

_**Chapter 26 - Two To Tango** _

 

The plan was supposed to be fool proof. Trust Sherlock to mess it up! Ending up making a fool of himself in front of Mycroft was not his intention.

The hangover made Greg swear to himself to stay away from alcohol. Karen’s shrill voice only aggravated it.

Sherlock was right, as always. The Inspector wondered why he did put up with this. Shaking his head in self-deprecation, he involuntarily cried out.

“… I may not be here always. How do you end up being so stupid!” Karen entered the living room carrying a bowl of cold water and a towel.

 

* * *

 

Greg closed his eyes relishing the comfort of the cool cloth. Water dripped along his forehead. Breathing in deeply, he fell into a daze.

 

_He was standing outside a pub. Half drunk. Swaying on his feet, phone in hand._

_Sherlock was late, or was he coming? Greg stared into the dimly lit road searching for that familiar coat and mop of hair._

_A car entered the road, slowly._

 

Greg’s wrinkled brows told Karen that he was dreaming. She left him to it.

The solitariness soothed him more. Shifting comfortably on the sofa, he tried to go back to that moment.

 

* * *

 

_The car came to a halt in front of him. The door opened and Greg wordlessly dumped himself inside._

_The act brought him lying face down on the backseat. His head touched a woollen trouser leg._

_Greg scooted higher and made himself comfortable on the warm thigh that felt a little too thin._

_The phone kept buzzing in his hand. Greg clenched it tightly as if to make it stop._

_Prying fingers released him of the grip. Sighing, Greg adjusted the shifted thigh to his comfort._

_The strange feeling of contentment soothed his mind as the car’s motion lulled him._

 

* * *

 

_Greg moved closer to the hand that was stroking his hair. It didn’t feel enough. He wanted to feel those fingers on his skin, caressing his features._

_“Let’s get you to bed.”_

 

The voice was not right. Wide awake, Greg looked up into the looming face and blinked.

“Come,” Karen softly said as she tried to make him rise from his slouched position on the sofa.

The lost look on the Inspectors’ face was unnoticed by his wife, who was more concerned in getting him and herself to bed.

Gingerly following Karen, Greg wondered what Sherlock meant by the message.

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 'message' will show up later. Just keep reading ..  
> {of course, when I post :)}


	27. Family Is Difficult

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Holmes Brothers have a (non)verbal duel ..  
> While Greg and Sherlock message it out ...

###  _Chapter 27 - Family Is Difficult_

 

#####  _{A nondescript room in the heart of London}_

The curtain gently swayed.  


“I do not need your help!” Mycroft bellowed as he paced the small room where Sherlock had taken up residence this past year.

He was adamant to show his big brother that he could make it alone. The room was long, 24 ft, but only 10 ft wide.

The only furniture was a foldable cot pushed to one side, near the window. A single arm chair stood by the door on which the Detective was seated, legs folded onto the seat, fingers joined at their tip, eyes closed.

Boxes filled the available space on the floor.   


* * *

 

Mycroft walked over to the cot, eyeing the litter on it. Swiftly turning around, he looked at the violin in it’s stand in one corner of the room.

Seeing clothes strewn around, the Ice Man closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. At least it was cleaner than the previous residence he cynically thought.

Making a mental note that it was time to send his valet again, Mycroft opened his eyes.

“Neither does he,” defeatedly he implored.

The mocking smile infuriated him so much that he gripped the umbrella with both hands, willing his brain to stop racing.

* * *

 

“You are being utterly selfish! Stop interfering in other people’s lives and put that goddamned brain of yours to good purpose!” Mycroft raged.

The triumphant look on the Detective’s face made Mycroft walk out the door, slamming it shut.

Sherlock walked over to the window, his emotionless face silhouetted by the yellow light from the street lamp.

The phone in his pocket dinged.

 

Message from GL: **What do you mean, my sexuality?**

 

Sherlock replied: **Just that.**

 

GL: **I am not gay!**

 

SH: **I didn’t say you are.**

 

GL: **It was a long time ago!**

 

SH: **Does that matter?**

 

GL: **No.**

 

* * *

 


End file.
